Vito stayed at home with us after his death - Our farewell over the weekend | Episode 5

When a dog dies, there is often not only emptiness - but also the question: What happens afterwards? In this episode of the Vitomalia Dogcast, we take you through the time immediately after our Vito was put to sleep - from Friday afternoon until his cremation on Monday.

We tell you why we decided to keep Vito at home with us for the whole weekend, how we organised this time and what helped us to say goodbye.

This article gives you an insight into a phase that hardly anyone talks about: the days between the death of a dog and the final farewell. We share our experiences honestly, without embellishment - in the hope of giving you guidance and perhaps also comfort.

When Vito was put to sleep on Friday, it was immediately clear to us that we weren't going to give him away straight away. Instead, we wanted to spend the weekend with him at home. It was important to us that he stayed in his usual place - not in a cool box at the vets, not anonymously "stored", but with us, where he had always been.

We bedded Vito in his favourite place, carefully prepared with pads to keep everything clean. It was unusual, but it felt right. The thought of having him at home gave us support. We could stroke him at any time, sit with him, share memories - and above all: say goodbye at our own pace.

The body changes after death. After a few hours it cools down, the muscles go into rigour. Fluids can disperse, the body shape can change. For us, the idea of keeping Vito at home after he was euthanised was totally strange at first - let's be honest about that. At first it sounds strange, maybe even "scary", to have a dead dog with you.

But we didn't want him to be kept anonymously in a cool box at the vet or crematorium. Our vet had prepared us and explained that dogs often have to be stored in the cramped cold rooms at the vet in such a way that visible changes occur - for example, because the bodies are compressed or fluids are distributed unfavourably. This can be difficult to bear later on, especially when you want to say goodbye once again.

Lui already knew this experience from his Rottweiler dog Furia. She had been left at the vet and when he saw her again later, her body was severely deformed. He wanted to avoid this memory for Vito at all costs.

We left Vito in his dog bed, just as he had always loved it. We placed nappy pads under him to be on the safe side in case any fluids leaked out - this can happen in the first hours and days after death. We covered him with his favourite blanket, put a toy next to him and positioned his head so that it wouldn't fall to one side. And then we just sat with him. We stroked him again and again, kissed him on the forehead, talked to him as if he was still there. We watched old videos, laughed, cried, reminisced. It did us so much good to have him so close to us. The thought of "handing him over" straight away and putting him in a cold room would have broken our hearts. Instead, we were able to say our final goodbyes at our own pace.

Vito's body naturally changed over time. After two days he was cooler, his eye sockets collapsed slightly and his limbs became firmer. But it wasn't a frightening sight. He still smelled like our Vito. He lay there as if he was simply asleep. And that's exactly how we wanted to remember him.

For us, this time was priceless. We said goodbye to Vito in peace - without time pressure, without unfamiliar surroundings, without anyone telling us when it had to be "over". We would make this decision again at any time.

This weekend was the most emotionally intense we have ever experienced.

What surprised us: Over time, it became calmer inside us. It wasn't any less sad, but it became peaceful. Vito was there. We could stroke him, fall asleep next to him, get used to the idea that he was gone at our own pace.

Amalia, our second dog, was a very important part of this. She kept sniffing Vito cautiously, but also withdrew again and again. She looked as if she knew exactly what was going on - and as if she was giving him his space. It was also important for her that Vito wasn't "suddenly gone", but that she was able to experience the change.

During the night, we brought Vito to our cool terrace. We wanted to make sure the temperature stayed low so that his body didn't change too quickly. We put him on a raised outdoor sofa to protect him from animals, placed candles around him and left the door open so that he was still "with us" - or so it felt to us.

We often just sat quietly, put our hand on his fur and felt that saying goodbye doesn't happen in an instant, but is a process.

Nevertheless, the moment of decision remains an exceptional psychological state. Many owners report that they only understand in hindsight how clearly their dog showed that it was ready to go - and that the decision to wait often came out of human pain, not animal need.

For both of us, Lui and Paulina, this was the biggest debate: do we want to wait and try everything - or realise that we've already tried everything?

We spent days, weeks in fact, analysing every symptom, discussing every new attempt, holding on to every hope. But at some point we honestly had to ask ourselves: are we still doing this for Vito - or are we just doing it for ourselves?

The decision to let go of Vito was not a decision to give up. It was exactly the opposite. It was the greatest act of love we could give him. We didn't want him to suffer, we didn't want him to die alone in hospital at some point, we didn't want him to continue to struggle just because we were afraid to say goodbye.

Once we had that clear for both of us, we knew:

The weekend with Vito at home was one of the most important and healing experiences for us in our grief. It was not just a pragmatic farewell, but a conscious, dignified, loving one - at our own pace.

We could still stroke him, smell him, give him little gestures that were important to us. We could say goodbye when and how we wanted, without the hustle and bustle of a direct transport or the sight of a chilled, altered body at the vet.

Yes, the idea of keeping the dead dog at home may seem strange at first glance. But for us it was a way to say goodbye to Vito with respect and love - and to organise this farewell in the way that was most healing for us as dog people.

We hope that our experience will encourage you to find your own way if you ever have to say goodbye to your dog. Without shame, without false taboos - but in a way that feels right for you and your dog.